Thanks to: Revenge of the Red Pen, TeganL74, Boxerbee, and A maze thing for reviewing last chapter.

In this exciting new chapter, we focus back to Merlin and what's going on with him. Slight whump and...well, you'll just have to read and find out. :)

Disclaimer: IDOM (because I'm too lazy to take the time to write the whole disclaimer)

Chapter 21 - Origins

"Where am I" he groaned. His vision was blurry, blood rushed to his ears, and the throbbed pounding on the inside of his skull prevented him from focusing on anything for too long. He was alone, he knew that for sure and he felt weak. He tried shifting in his position but cried out in pain when a burning sensation flared from his stomach. He had been shot!...but he couldn't feel the blood he assumed would be bleeding out of him at this moment. Moving to inspect it was a bad idea. Not only did his whole body protest but something was restraining his movements. Looking at his wrists, he noticed that his hands and feet were loosely chained to the wall again along with his torso and his neck. I'm not some dog, he thought bitterly. Then again, in my current predicament, maybe I need all of these restraints. They didn't work too well last time.

Last time. Last time he'd been in these dungeons, he and Arthur had...Oh yeah, where was the prat? The last time he saw Arthur was in the forest. He had gone to get some yarrow but then the witch came and then - nothing. The warlock didn't know if he should be happy that Arthur wasn't with him or if he should be worried about his safety. Gods knew that the prince couldn't last a day without him.

Merlin slowly bent his head upward to the window directly above him, trying to shake off his lethargy. The sunlight shone through, illuminating the dark room he was bound in. It taunted him, reaffirming his thoughts of not being free of the curse, the internal prison that chained him to the cruel nightly fate of death. And yet, it strangely gave him hope, hope that despite the situation, he - no, they would find a happy ending to his dilemma. After all, he was only one side of the coin - the brighter side he reminded himself - and his other side told him not to give up hope. And this time, he was going to listen.

After a couple minutes of contemplation, Merlin regained his senses and truly looked at his surroundings. It was the same prison alright but this time, he could make out a guard outside his doors from the small, barred opening. Well, at least they're learning, he mused internally. He had already noted his extra bindings so he moved on to his wounds. Now that he was out of his sluggish stupor, the wounds from the Dægar and the arrow wounds on his stomach and upper arm (although that one was only just a large scratch), to his surprise were all healed. They were sore as hell and the bite from the were-wyvern still ached, but other than that, he was perfectly fine.

Someone had healed him, but why? It obviously wasn't him since he still couldn't use his magic and the fact that, even if he could, he was utterly useless when it came to healing spells. By the severity of his wounds, it had to be someone with magic and he highly doubted that the druids would heal him and then chain him, even if they did know he was cursed. So that had to mean that one of the three witches (or their henchmen) had healed him...which then brought him back to his original question.

Why?

Or more importantly, for what purpose did they need him fully healed? What were they going to do to him? Merlin remembered Morgana mentioning an attack on Camelot later on. Was he supposed to fight on their side - because if they thought that he would willingly fight for them against Camelot then they were sorely mistaken.

As if to answer his questions, the cell door unlocked and was opened by one of the guards. Anatol stepped in, her black cloak draping behind her, followed by four hooded men. Merlin didn't bother to move, his piercing gaze never leaving the witch who cursed him. Unfazed, she flicked her hand to the men who had accompanied her. "Take him"

Immediately they moved. Snapping off his manacles from the wall with a few magical words, one guard forced a hood over his head. Pulling him by the remaining slack of the chain, they followed Anatol and proceeded to drag him through the corridor. The warlock offered some resistance at first but his attempts proved futile with a firm punch to the stomach, right where the arrow wound had been. He yelled out in pain and fell to the ground, his body refusing to get up for a couple of seconds. Frustrated, the guards forced him to his feet and, pulling the chains like he was some animal, dragged him through the corridor. Of course, his clumsiness was resistance enough and being blindfolded only made it worse for him and the guards. What probably would have been a five minute walk turned into fifteen minutes by the time they had reached their destination. Merlin was shoved to his knees while (by the sound of it) they reattached his chains to the wall, forcing him to kneel with his arms tightly outstretched. After an eternity and a half, the hood was roughly yanked off his head. Squinting, the warlock took a moment to adjust his sight to the dark, candlelit room.

The room, which was slightly smaller than the prison cell he was previously in, was littered with all sorts of scattered papers. Hundreds of books were either stuffed into bookshelves or laid open on the table in front of him. There was an old cauldron in the corner that, by the amount of cobwebs strung to it, hadn't looked like it had been used in a while. Skulls, some broken and some whole, were strewn in the corner, encircling the enormous pot whose strange markings seemed to glow in the candlelight. The room, in general, gave off an eerie feeling to the warlock and, had he not been tied up, he would've ran out of the room with all due haste and never returned.

"So, what do you think?" Anatol's voice snapped Merlin out of his daze. She must of noticed the look of horror on his face as he inspected his surroundings. At this, she smiled. "This used to be an old sorcerer's room hundreds and hundreds of years ago", Anatol paused to look at her captive. "It's an interesting story Merlin, I'm sure you would enjoy it." Merlin just continued to stare coldly at her, wondering why she was telling him a story of all things.

"In the days of old, after the birth of the five kingdoms, there lived a warlock of incredible power. He went by the name Sáwol and for those who heard of him, he was feared for his terrifying might. He was said to be the greatest sorcerer ever to live. In fact, many peasants and kings believed him to be the Emrys of legends, the one who would bring magic back to the land" Merlin inhaled sharply at the use of his druid name. Anatol didn't seem to notice and began pacing in front of the chained warlock.

"However, the druids chieftains were smarter than the fools who worshipped the ground he tread. Yes, Emrys was foretold to be the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth, but they knew he wasn't the one. Emrys was told to be a warlock of great power but also of great compassion, something that Sáwol thoroughly lacked. Inviting him to their land, which was located at the borders were all the five kingdoms met, they met with him privately and after much discussion, announced to the whole clan that he was not the chosen one. Enraged at not being given the title, he attacked the druid chieftains. Alone, they were no match for his great strength but with their magic united together as one, not even his massive power stood a chance. After being beaten by the druid leaders, they stripped Sáwol of his magic and banished him from their lands, never to return again under pain of death."

"It was in his fit of rage that Sáwol, who was before known for his mastery of every form of sorcery, challenged the druid laws and set his eyes on the most forbidden technique known to sorcerers alike - dark magic. Stealing the books from the druid vaults, he locked himself in this very room and began studying the dark arts. He didn't eat. He didn't drink. He didn't sleep. Driven by revenge, he made it his life's work to find a spell that would give him the ultimate power to strike back at those who had wronged him and taken away his magic"

"It was only after years of endless study that he finally found it - the spell that would give him unlimited power. Incanting it, he was given more power than he had ever possessed but it came with a terrible price. It turned him into a creature of darkness, fierce as any dragon, black as the night sky and eyes white as snow". At this, Merlin gasped and Anatol smiled maliciously.

"But that's the..." Merlin whispered.

"Yes, he became the first were-wyvern and with his power, he attacked the druids. Controlling the dark magic that coursed through his very being, he forcefully summoned every wyvern and had them attack all the druids. Together, they ravaged the druid lands, tearing up villages and killing all who stood in his way. No-one was spared from Sawol's wrath. The chieftains, knowing that even their combined power would not stop such evil and hate and wanting to stop any further bloodshed, had one trick up their sleeve. Facing Sáwol head on, they sacrificed themselves by giving up their magic and bound him, cursing him to be trapped in his own spell unless summoned by another. Before taking their final breath, they hid the spell away in hopes that no-one would ever find the spell that would summon him. What they didn't know was that, in doing so, they indirectly created an extremely powerful curse and a unique creature of dark magic. After they died, the druids, leaderless and lost, fought amongst themselves and dispersed throughout the five kingdoms, forfeiting their lands to the Five Great Kings. With Sawol defeated, the wyverns fled to the Perlious Lands. It was hundreds of years later that Sáwol's summon was found and those who were able to harness its power used it to strike at their enemies and deal them a blow worse than death - to be cursed for all eternity - and thus created an endless cycle of death"

The room went silent when Anatol finished her story, her pacing stopped her right in front of Merlin. The cursed warlock now knew why he felt so uneasy in the room. It reeked of dark magic, the very substance that was coursing through him at that very moment. Sáwol was his polar opposite in all senses of the word - it was of no surprise why he felt so ill. When he glanced at the room again, realization hit. The books, the skulls...what dark magic had Sáwol performed in here in his un-endless search for power? Why had Anatol brought him here? He doubted that it was just to make him feel ill and to tell him a story. Looking up at the sorceress, he found her standing over him, glaring maliciously at him from above.

"What was the point of telling me this?" he asked though deep breaths, trying to steady his breathing.

She smiled cruelly at him. "To show you that no matter what happens, there's no hope for you now. You can't escape fate. You can't escape destiny". With that, she moved closer. Merlin began struggling in his bindings, but his attempts proved futile. Laying both hands on his forehead, she took a deep breath. "Ic ambiht ðúálætee mé infær!" Merlin gasped in pain as both their eyes flashed gold. Darkness overshadowed the room, swallowing everything in its path. Within seconds, Merlin's world went black.

I had so much fun writing this chapter and coming up with the story. You'll see why it's important later on. Thanks to all you reviewers, favoriters, alerters, and generally all you readers out there for the support. The story will be coming to an end soon so stay tuned to see the finale.

Spell Translation:

Ic ambiht ðúálætee mé infær! - I command you to let me enter!

Oh and Sáwol actually means 'immortal' in Old English. I thought the name fit him perfectly since Emrys is supposed to mean immortal as well and, for my story, he's supposed to be Merlin's polar opposite.

Until later,

-STL13